


Deacon/Taylor One Shots

by KeepYourselfAlive



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, How Do I Tag, I just love them, Just read the descriptions idk?, M/M, One Shot Collection, One of them hits me in the feels though, Sexual Tension, Smut, mostly lighthearted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepYourselfAlive/pseuds/KeepYourselfAlive
Summary: This is basically a collection of random John/Roger One Shots that I kinda feel like writing. I'll update every once in a while -  I don't know how long I'm actually gonna commit to this but I'll try :) Basically, I really love John and Roger and we need m o r e of them. Talk to me in the comments about these two! I love them!





	1. Roger Has An Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this was written at, like, 2am. Sorry lol. Inspired by that meme. You'll know the one.

Roger wasn’t exactly sure what was so funny about driving Brian crazy, but tonight, he’d taken it upon himself to fashion it into a creative sport. After a couple of drinks, he’d decided it was just so entertaining that he couldn’t resist. The four bandmates had gathered for dinner in the kitchen of the farm they were residing in whilst recording their new album, attempting to unwind after a long day of rehearsing and writing. Roger, however, had other things in mind.

Tonight, his focus would be on John.

He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but he’d always found the younger man particularly alluring. Something about the way he moved when they played, the little looks he’d give when the other three were fighting, the way he’d calm Roger down, and how he always seemed to know a little more than he was letting on. Nonetheless, he preferred to remain in denial, simply convincing himself from one day to the next that he just admired his friend, nothing more. Tonight, however, the amount of liquor he’d consumed had something else to say about it.

It was as if all doubt had fled his mind, and there was nothing left but confidence, and an odd, twisted sense of humour. He contemplated this as he sat at the counter, chin resting in his hand as he watched John move about the kitchen around Brian, trying to help by occasionally stirring a bubbling pot of pasta. It was adorable, really. He was just trying to help, and Roger could see in Brian’s face that the other man was just getting in the way, but Brian would never have the heart to tell him to let him work alone.

Freddie sat at the table, sipping a glass of liquor and flipping through a magazine with his feet propped up on another chair. He was rambling on and on about how deathly boring it would be to work in business.

“I mean, just imagine, it’d be nothing short of a nightmare? I mean, how do people enjoy this? It’s all just so fake. Why can’t people just do what they like? I can’t imagine anyone liking business. Imagine manipulating people every day, for a _job!_ ” he ranted.

“Not everyone has the same interests as you, Fred.” Brian sighed. “I mean, I can’t say I love shopping for floor length purple coats, can I? That’s just you.”

“What on earth is wrong with my coats? You simply aren’t any fun, that’s your problem.”

“Not any fun? Because I don’t think business is irrelevant and I don’t like magenta _capes?_ Really, Fred??”

As they bickered back and forth, John shot Roger a _look_ , rolling his eyes with a small smile. Roger felt something warm inside his chest, and he lulled over it for a moment in his drunken haze. A mischievous smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, John, leave the cooking to Brian, come over here and have another drink with me.” He shot across the counter with a wink.

~

About twenty minutes later, John and Roger were both shitfaced. Freddie, also significantly tipsy, stood across from them at the counter and laughed as Roger pulled John’s legs across his lap, causing the two to nearly fall from their seats. Brian, stone cold sober, just rolled his eyes. “Would you two get up and help? We’ve got stuff to carry to the table here.” Brian asked, annoyed. John swayed for a moment and then rose to his feet, giggling. Roger just rested his head on the counter and pouted.

“You’ve gotta be strict with him, brian!!” John half-shouted through his laughter, and pulled at Roger’s arm. “C’mon, Rog, get the fuck off the chair and help!” Roger complied, and circled around the counter.

“It’s true, Brian. John knows I like it rough.” Roger said, smacking John’s ass as he passed by him. Freddie nearly choked on his drink, and Brian turned around and _glared_ at Roger. Coming to his senses for a moment and half-realizing what he’d just said, he looked to John anxiously, but to his surprise, the brunette man simply shook his head and slowly smiled.

“Could you please control yourself for a few bloody minutes while we get dinner on the table?” Brian snapped, and Roger relished in the thrill of how the flirty comment had prompted such a reaction from everyone. He liked the attention, especially when it came to John. Confidence was sexy, right? Besides, Roger had always loved chaos. Especially that of a sexual nature. He knew it would drive Brian and Freddie crazy; Brian because of his motherly, domestic nature, and Freddie simply because he wasn’t the most outrageous person in the room for the night.

“I’ll try my best, but with this one around, it won’t be easy,” Roger retorted, shooting another wink at John. Brian groaned and rubbed his face with his hands, and then picked up a plate and handed it to Roger.

“Take this. Over there. To the table. Now.” He directed, and Roger complied. Soon, the four of them were sitting around the table, laughing and passing food around the table. John picked up his fork and poked around at his food, lifting some to his mouth for a moment before jumping and quickly moving it back down to the plate as if it had bitten him.

“What’s the matter, John?” Freddie asked, and everyone turned to him. John held up the fork.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that the food is too hot, I can’t eat it.” he responded. Without a split second of contemplation, Roger jumped in and replied.

“You’re hot but I’d still eat-”

The sentence was cut off by the sound of Brian’s hands slamming down on the table.

“ONE DINNER!!!” He shouted.

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Here we go again,” he muttered under his breath.

“ONE NORMAL FUCKING DINNER IS ALL I ASK, YOU TWO.” Brian continued, before Freddie started laughing. Brian turned and stared at him.

“What?” Freddie laughed. “Don’t you think it’s kind of funny? I mean, our own fiery, forward Roger Taylor pretending to chase after sweet little Deaky? I find it lavish, to be quite honest. There’s a delicious sexual tension there that I never quite felt the need to acknowledge, but seeing it laid out, god, don’t you think it’s entertaining?”

Roger felt as though he’d just been impaled, and his breath caught in his throat. It felt like an eternity of silence until the sound of John snickering snapped him back into reality. Brian stared at the both of them, and sat back down, face contorting in a way that almost made it seem as though he was concealing a smile.

“There, now, I knew you’d appreciate it too!” Freddie chuckled, and John’s laugh became more obvious. Soon enough, Brian chimed in with his own laughter, and then Roger, who had buried his face in his hands, and the four of them were killing themselves laughing. Once they’d composed themselves, Brian picked up his fork.

“Let’s just eat, _please_ ” he laughed softly, before working at his food. Freddie started eating too, but Roger simply froze, his brain struggling to jump from one clear thought to the next. That was when he noticed John out of the corner of his eye, seemingly frozen as well. He shifted his gaze and met John’s eyes. He was simply staring at him, as though he were working out a mental math problem or something. It was a complex, confusing expression that gave Roger an odd feeling of anticipation. John smiled the slightest bit, a mischievous, knowing smile, and all of a sudden Roger felt as though they were on the exact same page. Roger raised an eyebrow, as if to ask ‘ _you thinking what I’m thinking?’_ and John slowly nodded, devious smile growing.

Then, all of a sudden, it was as if the magnetic pull between the two of them completely took over. The second Roger moved to lean towards John, everything started happening. Roger pushed his lips into John’s, who quickly worked his hands into Roger’s hair. Roger grabbed John’s face with both hands and all but shoved his tongue down his throat. Neither of them were entirely sure if it was entirely a joke, but through their drunken haze, it didn’t matter. It seemed like the funniest thing in the world to both of them, neither of them entirely coming to terms with the fact that they were actually making out.

Within seconds, and to everyone’s surprise, John dragged Roger to his feet before grabbing him by his thigh and pulling him up onto the table, only to slam him down onto it on his back, their lips never leaving range of each other as he climbing on top of the blond. Roger gasped in shock - this type of dominant action seemed out of character for the brunette man - but John always found a way to surprise him. Drinks were knocked over and plates shoved aside as Freddie and Brian both jumped out of their seats, avoiding getting hit by flying dishes and shocked by the sudden… development.

Freddie and Brian, standing around the table as the other two messily kissed, running their hands up and down each other, through hair, into back pockets and across chests, gasping for air as they attempted to eliminate any space between them. Both of the two men standing had their jaws dropped, and didn’t speak a word for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Freddie’s maniacal, disbelieving laughter broke through.

“Holy FUCK, are you KIDDING ME?” Brian finally yelled. “Very funny, you two have really outdone yourselves, look what you’ve done to the table!!”

“My god, I was almost joking! I certainly didn’t expect this!!!” Freddie said, barely able to hold himself up, gaping at the two. Brian just shook his head. They stood there like that, in absolute disbelief, and it wasn’t until John went for Roger’s neck, causing Roger to let out nothing short of a moan, that Brian decided he’d had enough.

“You know what, fine.” He said, throwing his napkin down onto the chair. “I was done eating anyways, you guys have your fucking fun… I guess… ” he finished, pulling Freddie by the arm.

“Oh, loosen up a bit, Brian, they’re simply having a bit of fun!” Freddie managed to choke out through his laughter. Brian simply rolled his eyes, dragging him out of the kitchen.

Despite the apparent accomplishment of their goal, the two didn’t stop.

John moved up and down Roger’s neck, kissing and biting around his collarbone, below his jaw, anywhere he could find, as Roger let out desperate moans through his panting breath. He snaked his hands under the back of John’s shirt, grabbing at his back as they moved against each other. Their movements became more and more lustful, until they were practically grinding into each other. The increasing friction prompted Roger to become more and more vocal, high-pitched curses falling from his mouth. “Ah.. ah.. Fuck, _John_ …” he gasped, grasping at the man, who moved back up to Roger’s mouth, thoroughly enjoying in the way his name sounded coming from Roger’s lips like _that_. They kissed with a fire that neither of them had even _dreamed_ of, moving faster, warmer, _harder_ \- and that was the last thing either of them remembered.

~

Instead, Roger’s eyes blinked open to an unwelcome brightness, natural light pouring into the room and disturbing his sleep. He hummed gently and leaned over to push his head further into the pillow in an attempt to block out the light, but as he moved, he realized there was something blocking him from rolling over entirely. His hazy, hungover morning brain took a second to piece together exactly what he was feeling, but the second he did, he stilled. _There was someone else in his bed_. He didn’t dare move a muscle, but simply forced his eyes open, and realized that the person he had his arm draped around was _John Deacon_. He suddenly became hyper-aware of every nerve ending in his body, distinguishing every part of his skin that was touching John’s. He was practically wrapped around the man.

He didn’t quite believe it. He could barely remember a thing from the night before, and panic began to rise in his chest as he quietly moved to look over the man’s shoulder at his face to make sure it was John, and he wasn’t just losing his room. He sat up shakily, trying to piece everything together. He looked around, and realized that they were in John’s cramped basement room, cuddled together in a bed that was barely big enough for John alone, let alone the two of them. They were so, so close. His breathing quickened, and he looked down at himself. He was fully dressed. So was John. He immediately began trying to decipher the details of the scene, wanting desperately to figure out what had happened - if anything had happened - and how he was going to fix it.

He hadn’t managed to be as discreet as he’d hoped, because John stirred at his movements, and turned his head towards Roger, not quite opening his eyes yet. Roger felt something drop in his chest as he gazed at the man resting before him. He was so undoubtedly, undeniably beautiful. It was impossible to ignore. He drew in a sharp breath, taken slightly aback by how innocent and angelic he looked in the small bit of light pouring in through the tiny window up the wall. John’s eyes slowly opened, and he blinked up at Roger like a newborn puppy. His sweet smile upon seeing Roger made the blond’s heart soar, but all of a sudden, John had the same realization Roger had. His eyes widened, and he snapped up, only to groan and clap a hand to his forehead. Only then did Roger realize that he, too, had a searing headache. Nothing like a hangover to help you sort through a confusing situation.

John looked around, then at Roger, then down at himself. Upon also realizing they were both clothed, he stared ahead blankly, trying to sort out his thoughts. “... What happened, Rog?” he finally managed to ask. Roger’s heart skipped a beat at the bassist’s raspy morning voice, but he’d deny that for an eternity.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Roger admitted. They sat in silence for a moment, until Roger continued. “I mean, we’re both dressed, so I’m assuming not… _too_ much… but something.” John slowly nodded. He looked nervously back and forth between his hands and Roger.

“So, uh, do you want to talk about it? Or not right now?” he asked. Roger thought about it, and looked at the younger man.

“I think I need a cup of coffee before I even _think_ about anything.” He responded, and John laughed.

“Yeah, and maybe a couple dozen painkillers. It’s gonna be a rough morning.” He replied, jumping up from the bed and getting halfway up the stairs before pausing and looking back at Roger. “You coming?”

The two headed up the stairs, and stopped dead in their tracks at the sight before them. The kitchen table, covered by the carnage of the previous night’s _activities_ , practically stared them down in the middle of the room. It was as if it was taunting them, _‘remember me? Remember this?’_ However, it didn’t need to, because looming above the disastrous reminder was Freddie fucking Mercury, a terrible smirk on his face that made everything from the previous night come crashing back to John and Roger. John stared down at the ground, and Roger backed up unsteadily, suddenly feeling slightly faint.

“Good morning, fuckers!” He said, but it sounded like screaming through the pounding headaches of a hangover. Strong start. “We were technically supposed to be practicing since eight o’clock in the morning, but we thought we’d let the two of you… _recover_.” He added with a taunting chuckle. John’s eyes snapped up.

“Wait, what time _is_ it? Ten, eleven?” He asked.

“Try one in the afternoon!” Brian called over Freddie’s shoulder, where he stood in the kitchen slapping a sandwich together for himself. Roger rubbed his eyes and groaned. He sat down on the floor and leaner back against the wall, and Freddie winked at him.

“I think I’ll leave you two to discuss your little endeavour, I’m going to go write for a while in my room. Brian, I suggest you do the same.” Freddie announced, shooting a look at Brian, who rolled his eyes and followed suit. The two left the room, and John sat down next to Roger, giving him a small smile.

“Roger…” he started, but was soon cut off.

“Listen, I’m really sorry, if you want to just pretend that it didn’t happen I’m okay with that, I totally understand.” Roger scrambled out, leaning his head against the wall. “Seriously, you don’t need to be nice about it or whatever, just tell me if you want me to pretend it never happened.” John thought for a moment, and then laced his fingers between Roger’s.

“Actually, I was _going_ to say, before you _rudely_ cut me off…” he started, and then trailed off, blushing. “That I like you. And I didn’t exactly mind last night, I guess.” he continued, looking down at his feet. “Well, the parts I can remember.”

Roger let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and looked at John. “... You’re not mad?” He asked. John gave him a confused look.

“Why on earth would I be mad?” he asked. “Do you _know_ how good you are at kissing?” Roger laughed, trying not to turn bright bloody pink. “Seriously!” John continued. “That’s, like, make-your-knees-weak type of skill. It’s frustrating, really, that I can’t just kiss you all the damn time.”

“Wait, so, you’d thought about it before too?” Roger asked, surprised. John smiled sheepishly and nodded. Roger looked ahead, taken aback. “So… I guess let’s just kinda… see where we go from here?” he asked. John’s smile grew ever so slightly.

“Yeah, I guess so.”


	2. I Want to Break Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John shook his head, and turned to open the door, but just as he grabbed the handle, he was stopped by a hand on the door and a body beside him. 
> 
> “Tell me I’m wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things. 
> 
> 1\. I passed my drivers test on Monday yee haw
> 
> 2\. Today there was a fire AND a power outage at my school and we all got let out for winter break early lets fucking go bois 
> 
> 3\. This chapter is kind of a lol. Basically, the song "I Want to Break Free" always kinda gets me, just because of the fact that John wrote it, and the lyrics kinda don't make a whole ton of sense from a practical standpoint coming from John, considering his whole wife-and-kids comfortable family life thing. It just kinda gives me this weird feeling? I guess? About the way he was feeling back then, and there's all that stuff about how he was going through a Rough Time™, and nobody really knew what was going on with him and it just GETS me yknow anyways i converted that into a John/Roger thing here ya go enjoy

It was raining. There was a storm thundering through the city, and it had refused to cease over a number of days. Rain poured down from the sky, drumming against streets and rooftops as families laughed and dined together, celebrating the beginning of the Christmas season. The early December storm persisted outdoors, but nobody seemed to mind.

  
John stared out his kitchen window with a mug of tea, wearing a particularly unattractive grey sweater, which had faded white snowflake patterns all across it. 

“You dress as if you’re 65 years old and  _ balding _ ”, his bandmates would laugh if they were there to see it - John could practically hear their voices echoing through his head. He chuckled at the thought of it, gazing out the window as he sipped his tea, echoes of his family laughing in another room drifting through the house and reaching where he stood, taking in a moment of peace.

It had been quite a year, and he enjoyed moments like these, when he felt obliviously happy, and could be distracted from everything for a little while. He could finally appreciate one of the little moments, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he wasn’t thinking about Roger. 

He set his mug down and turned to walk back down the hall to the dining room, where his wife and their extended family sat around the table, teaching the children how to play a very heated round of cards. He’d told them to count him out for the hand while he cleaned up a bit in the kitchen, but now he leaned against the doorway, taking in the comfortable domestic scene. Their laughter bounced around the room, and the warmth in his chest made him smile, despite the haunting guilt he felt every time he looked at Veronica, his wife. 

He shook the feeling, and focused in on the playing strategy being shared throughout the table, the soft hum of music gently lacing through the air. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Being the closest to the it, John was the only one who heard it. He sighed and made his way through the hall, where he unlocked the door and pulled it open to find Roger, standing soaked on his doorstep, just out of the rain, looking at him with an unidentifiable intensity. 

Taken aback, John stared for a moment, contemplating whether or not what stood in front of him was real. He was snapped back into reality by the sound of Roger’s voice.

“What the hell is this?” He asked, holding up a slightly crumpled piece of paper, which he seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Roger’s sudden statement, which bordered on agitated, took John by surprise. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, a decision which proved to be absolutely useless.

“I… it appears to be a piece of paper, Rog… would you like to come inside?” he asked, trying to calm the dizzying of his racing mind. Roger simply shook his head, and looked down at the paper in his hand, gaze softening until he looked almost sad, but only for a moment before unfolding the page and holding it towards John. The other man’s eyes raced across the wet, crinkled paper, and his brain registered the words  _ “I Want to Break Free” _ sprawled across the top of the page in his own painfully familiar handwriting. He felt something drop in his chest.

“John, what does this mean?” Roger asked, eyes still boring into John’s fucking soul.

“It’s a song I wrote. Not a fan?” John replied with a small smile. Roger exhaled and broke his stare, looking down to his right and rubbing his jaw. 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He said, lowering his voice without removing the intensity from his words. John stepped outside and slowly closed the door behind him. “Tell me something, anything. I mean, where did this come from?” Roger continued. 

“I don’t know you mean, Roger.” John responded. Roger held up the paper and began reading lyrics. 

_ “I’ve fallen in love for the first time, and this time I know it’s for real” _ He read out in an exasperated voice, pausing to look up at John, mouth open in disbelief, slowly shaking his head. John rolled his eyes. 

“Roger, I’m not doing th-”

_ “It’s strange but it’s true, I can’t get over the way you love me like you do,” _ Roger cut him off.  _ “But I have to be sure, when I walk out that door, oh how I want to be free.” _ He stared at the younger man, waiting for a response. 

“What do you want me to say?” John said, trying to deflect the obvious accusations within Roger’s recital.

“What do you have to be sure about? What’s strange but true about who you love, John?” Roger shot back. 

A few painfully slow moments dragged by before Roger slowly asked another question.

 

“Who are you trying to free yourself from?”

 

Veronica’s laugh suddenly rang through a nearby window, somehow clearer than any of the other mumbly voices from the house that drifted in the background of their conversation. John sighed and rubbed the side of his face.

“I’m not doing this right now, Roger. This is ridiculous.” He said, moving towards the door, but Roger cut him off.

_ “But life still goes on,” _ he started, and this time it was John’s turn to bore into Roger.  _ “I can’t get used to living without, living without, living without you by my side,” _ Roger simply continued, not batting an eye. He took a long pause.  _ “I don’t want to live alone” _ he read, but quieter this time, his voice cracking as if he was about to cry. The sound shattered something inside of John. 

The two watched each other, and for a long, long while, the only sound was that of the rain hammering down around them. 

“Freddie sang it for me, but all I could hear was your voice.” Roger said quietly, and then paused again. 

“Is it about me?” He finally asked. 

John softened his gaze, and Roger nearly stopped breathing when he registered how defeated the other man looked. In his haze of frantic questioning, he had barely noticed how much this seemed to be hurting John.

“To me, everything is about you, Roger.” he finally responded.

“Then why are you doing this?” Roger asked, stepping closer. “ _ You _ told  _ me _ that we could never be together.  _ You _ decided that. Why?” 

John stepped back, his stare hardening.

“Because I have a family! And  _ you _ have a family!” He shot, staring at Roger in disbelief. “I thought you understood this!? This is where I belong. I really don’t know why you can’t handle that.” 

“Why can’t I  _ handle _ it??? Because apparently you want to  _ “break free” _ , John!” Roger shouted. “This isn’t what you want, John, it’s all right here, and it always is! You want to break free from all of THIS.” he said, waving his hands at the house behind them. 

John shook his head, and turned to open the door, but just as he grabbed the handle, he was stopped by a hand on the door and a body beside him. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

John turned to Roger, their faces only inches away. 

“No, Roger, it’s not about you, okay!? It’s about  _ me _ ! This song is about  _ me _ , and the way  _ I  _ feel, this is how  _ I  _ deal with my own shit! Did you ever ONCE stop to consider the fact that maybe this is my escape?? One of the only other things in the world that make me feel sane, writing music?” He shouted. Roger took a step back, eyes widening with guilt. 

“I did this for ME, Roger.” John continued. “And I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I’ve got to do it.” The two looked at each other, and the world stood still, as if it was wondering what else was left to say.

“John, I love you.” Roger managed to force out. 

John looked away, tapping his finger on the doorknob, as if he was contemplating whether to stay or go.

“I can’t keep doing this, Rog.” He said softly. “I’m sorry.” 

He opened the door, and as he turned back to Roger, the other man was already walking away, down the steps and heading towards the street. John stepped inside and pulled the door halfway closed behind him, when almost subconsciously, he stopped. Before he knew it, he was walking, following right behind Roger, faster and faster until he’d caught up to him before he could reach his car door.

“Wait,” John said, reaching towards Roger’s shoulder. 

“Oh what!?” The other exclaimed, frustrated, turning around at the pull of John’s hand, only to be cut off by John’s lips on his own. He barely moved, wanting so desperately to be angry enough to fight it, but soon couldn’t resist. He melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around John’s waist as the other moved his hands into Roger’s soaked hair, pulling him in as the rain poured down around them. There was no time or need to be graceful; they were desperate for each other, grabbing messily at one another in any possible attempt to pull the other closer. 

When they finally broke apart, they simply stood there in one another’s arms, looking at each other, not entirely sure what to do next. It was roger who moved first, shifting his hands from John’s back and to his own pockets, taking a step back.

“I’d better get going.” He said softly, trying to sift through the thoughts racing through his mind. He circled around to the driver’s side of his car, and John slowly backed away, turning around to walk back to his house. Just as he was about to open his car door, Roger stopped himself.

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a good song.”

John shifted his weight from one foot to another, looking away for a moment. 

“Thanks.” 

With that, Roger got into his car, and John headed back into his house, pushing the door closed behind him and leaning against it. He closed his eyes and stayed there for a moment, taking in what had just happened before he calmly walked back down the hall and into his dining room, where he pulled up a chair to the table amongst his family members.

“Count me in,” He said with a smile, picking up a new hand of cards and trying his best to push away the image of a beautiful blond man driving away into the night.


	3. Roger "Kinda Likes" John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically fluff since my last chapter was uhhh a LOT of angst lol. Ya bois try to make a gingerbread house and then Brian and Freddie leave and some Dealor shit goes down ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Sorry for the late update, I originally planned to post this on Christmas but I, uh, procrastinated. A lot. So, I changed a couple of things around in the writing and made it fit for after-Christmas, I guess? Yeah? Yeah. This chapter is pretty much fluff, to make up for the last chapter... hehe... s o r r y 
> 
> Speaking of which, the reaction to my last chapter was unbelievable!! Not only were the comments super sweet, but I was seeing a bunch of people talk about it on instagram too? Like?? You guys are amazing, thank you so so much for being so kind <3 Enjoy!

“No, Roger, that’s not how you put it together!” 

“Well then what are these indents here? Obviously those are there for a reason!”  
“Yes, that’s true, but those aren’t the correct pieces!!! Here, let me show you. These ones fit better.”

An entertained smile pulled at John’s lips as he watched Brian and Roger fight over the messy gingerbread house the four of them were trying to construct. Despite having started ten minutes ago, they had yet to put any of the walls up, mostly due to Roger. 

“Christmas was  _ yesterday _ , remind me again why we’re doing this  _ now _ ?” John asked, examining a tough, unpleasant-looking gingerbread man.

“Freddie found this box of sugary  _ hell _ in the cupboard and decided it shouldn’t go to waste.” Brian grumbled, gluing bright orange candies onto what appeared to be a window. Freddie rolled his eyes and looked at John. 

“These two. Such divas.” He scoffed, at which Roger sharply turned his head.

“You’re certainly one to talk! And I don’t see either of  _ you _ helping, do I?” he grumbled, fixating his vision on the bag of icing he was carefully squeezing along the base of their gingerbread house. 

“Roger, darling, nobody can even _look_ at that without you accusing them of sabotaging it! You can’t blame us for considering this a _spectator_ _sport_.” Freddie retorted. John nodded along in solidarity.

“He’s right, Rog. You do tend to be very passionate about things like this, to say the least.” he chimed in. Roger looked at him in disbelief. 

“Oh, really, you too? I can’t do anything around here without being criticized for it. I’m sorry for having a  _ vision _ here!” He rambled, shaking his head and steadying the walls of the tiny house, which finally seemed to be standing. 

“Vision? Please. You tried to make a carpet out of the roof.” Brian pointed out. Without missing a beat, Roger threw the icing bag in his hand across the table at Brian, hitting him square in the chest and eliciting a thundering laugh from Freddie. Brian shot him a particularly parental  _ glare _ and opened his mouth to say something, but it wasn’t until John reached over and rested a hand on Roger’s arm, laughing, that the fuming blonde broke his spell of rage. 

“Roger, it’s  _ okay _ ! We’re just joking around!” John laughed, and Roger opened his mouth to spit back a response, wishing he could maintain his anger, but seeing John smiling in his sweet, angelic way settled something in him. He shrunk back into his chair, ignoring the rosy colour forming on his cheeks.

“Thank god we have John around,” Brian chuckled to Freddie. “Their little unspoken love affair always comes in handy.”

“We do NOT have an unspoken _love_ _affair_!” Roger shouted, but then stopped himself, as if having made some internal decision to leave it be. “Whatever.” He grumbled. “Let’s just finish this.” 

The four got to work, icing colourful sugary candies onto tiny roofs and windows, and sticking little gingerbread trees in front of the house to ‘add realism’, as Brian suggested. When they finally finished the house, about fifteen minutes had gone by, the last three of which Freddie had disappeared for. Their sugary house stood tall and proud before them, and they were all reasonably pleased with it. 

“That wasn’t too bad, was it Roger?” Brian poked. 

“Certainly not, especially thanks to my idea to use this little thing as a wreath.” Roger replied. John rolled his eyes.

“It’s  _ specifically designed _ for that, Rog. Nice try.” 

Freddie burst through the kitchen doorway again, holding a piece of paper in one hand and a beer in the other. 

“What did I miss?” He asked, strolling around the counter to where the other three sat, admiring their masterpiece. 

“Not much, but we’ve finished, somehow.” John replied. 

“Well, would you look at that, Brian and Roger managed to work together without hurting anyone after all!” Freddie chuckled, admiring the tiny house. The second he said it, the walls of the tiny house collapsed, and the whole thing tumbled. 

“Now look what you’ve done!!!” Roger shot at Brian, who let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Roger, PLEASE feel free to explain how that was  _ my _ fault?!” 

“I told you that wasn’t how we were meant to do the walls! Now look where we are!” Freddie shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“Alright Brian, I think we’d better head upstairs now. It’s getting late and it seems  _ the baby is getting fussy. _ ” He said, pointing at Roger, who just threw his hands up in disbelief.

“Right, I get it, that’s me, I’m the baby?” Roger started, but Freddie simply waved him off before pulling his coat over his shoulders to head back up to the flat he shared with Brian. It was just above the one shared by Roger and John, in which the four of them stood, which came in handy when the four of them wanted to spend the night bickering over silly things like gingerbread.

“Goodnight guys, see you at practice tomorrow. Bright and early, don’t forget.” Brian said, pulling a bag over his shoulder and following Freddie out the door. John wished them both a good night and closed the door behind them. He walked through the kitchen past Roger, who was angrily rinsing icing off of a spoon in the sink, and playfully ruffled through his hair for a moment in an attempt to lighten the mood before leaning against the counter beside him. 

“Don’t you ever get sick of how bloody  _ patronizing _ people can be?” the blonde began, as if he had been waiting for an opportunity to spit it out. John rolled his eyes and smiled; this fiery, dramatic side of his friend was commonplace when he got worked up about something. He knew Roger would calm down and forget about it by tomorrow, but nonetheless, it was clear that it was bothering him.

“I know, Rog, I know. Do you want to watch a movie or something? Take your mind off of it?” John suggested, and Roger bit his lip in contemplation.

“Yeah, actually, that sounds nice.” 

 

Within the next ten minutes, they were set up in their tiny living room, all the lights in the flat turned off so that only the light of the TV screen flooded the room, darkening out the rest of the world and allowing them to simply sit together and focus on the movie they had chosen. 

As the film progressed, it became apparent that the two of them were moving, ever so slightly, closer. It was barely noticeable at first; Roger would reach forward to adjust the volume, and when he leaned back, the distance between them had lessened. Or John would switch around the way he’d crossed his legs and end up inching a little bit closer. These actions were objectively harmless, but both John and Roger were hyper-aware of every movement either of them made, as if they were afraid that one inch too far in that direction would destroy everything. It was as if they were testing the limits. 

They weren’t afraid of being physical with each other - the band was very humorously affectionate towards each other when they were goofing around or having a night out - but this kind of closeness felt strangely intimate, and it seemed like there was an unspoken acknowledgement of this between them in the moment, something which both of them knew but neither felt the need to vocalize. 

Before long, it was as if there was a magnetic pull between the two. They sat shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, leg to leg, leaning into each other as if they depended on the other for oxygen. 

“Hey, John?” Roger suddenly asked, breaking the silence between them.

“Yeah?” John responded, turning to meet the gaze of the other, only to feel his breath catch in his throat. The soft, angelic look on the blonde’s face made John’s heart race a little faster than it should’ve. Roger studied him for a moment, and then turned away again.

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” 

“What is it, Rog?” John prompted softly, and the other simply looked ahead, gluing his eyes to the TV screen, as if trying to make a decision. Without so much as turning his eyes back to John, he asked a question.

“Can I hold your hand?” 

John’s mouth went dry. He remained silent for a moment, wondering if he’d misheard. There was no way this was actually happening. No way.

“Yeah, sure,” were the only two words he managed to get out. The world seemed to blur together around them as Roger cautiously interlaced his fingers between John’s. They stayed that way, practically breathing as one, and John hated that it felt so right. He knew Roger probably didn’t mean anything by it. He was just a flirty person by nature, he liked things like this. It would surely be no different with Brian or Fr-

“You know what’s kind of funny?” Roger’s gentle voice ripped John from his frantic thoughts.

“What?”

Roger turned his head towards John, his eyes slowly raking over his body until finally meeting John’s gaze. It made the gears in John’s head start to spin like mad. 

“You know how Brian and Freddie always make jokes about us dating or fucking or whatever?” 

Now the gears in John’s head were exploding. All he could do was nod. Roger looked away again, chuckling nervously to himself. 

“I just… sometimes I don’t totally hate the idea.” 

John felt his stomach drop. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Roger  _ actually _ just said that.

“Wh-what do you mean by that, exactly, Rog?” he stammered like an idiot, mentally cursing himself for not sounding more together. Roger tensed up, and turned away slightly.

“I don’t know, maybe that was a weird thing to say, I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out, I just-” 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” John cut him off, moving his left hand - the one that wasn’t holding Roger’s - around the blonde's waist and placing it gently on his hip, only to realize a few seconds later that he had even done it. Something struck him as he realized what had just happened, and Roger seemed to have the same reaction, looking down at his hand and then back up to his eyes.

“Sorry.” John said quietly, and moved his hand away, only to have it stopped by Roger’s own hand over his arm. They looked at each other, and the entire world stood still. 

All of a sudden, everything was moving again, and Roger’s lips were on John’s. They pushed into each other with an undeniable fire as John slid his hands into Roger’s hair and leaned back into the couch, inviting Roger to climb on top of him, hands sliding from the sides of John’s face down to his hips. They remained this way, neither man entirely sure if it was actually happening, and John slipped his tongue into Roger’s mouth, eliciting a soft moan from the other as their hands roamed each other’s bodies. They carried on in this fashion for a while, until Roger pulled apart from John, both of them breathing heavily as they looked at each other desperately. 

“I, uh, are you sure you’re okay with this?” Roger asked, still straddling John and practically panting. John sat up, bringing a hand to the side of Roger’s face.

“Do you really think I would have kissed you like that if I wasn’t okay with it?” He laughed, cheeks rosy and smile wide. A small smile spread across Roger’s face, and John pulled him down by the back of his neck into another kiss. They sunk down into the couch again, John particularly enjoying Roger’s hand in his hair as he wrapped himself around the man. Just as it seemed as though the rest of the world had disappeared, footsteps approached their door. They pulled apart for a second, Roger looked down at John with widening eyes, and John’s heart stopped with a realization.

“I forgot to lock the d-” He began, but was immediately cut off by their flat door swinging open, revealing Freddie fucking Mercury, clad in a pair of pretentious magenta pyjamas.

“Sorry, loves, I forgot to grab my-” Freddie half-shouted, voice draining to a complete halt as his eyes fell upon the sight before him. Roger was fully  _ on top of John _ , their legs  _ intertwined _ , practically wrapped around each other with their hair a mess and a breathless look of shock on their faces as they both stared at the man at the door, unmoving. 

“... bag…” Freddie finished his sentence, after an eternity of shocked silence. Roger jumped off of John, who pushed himself so far in the other direction that he  _ fell right off the back of the fucking couch _ . He hit the floor with a thud, Roger gasped, and the three of them remained there, staring at each other from their respective corners of the room. Finally, Freddie reacted. The biggest mocking grin spread across his face, and he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and slowly shaking his head. 

“Fred…” Roger began, but Freddie simply put both of his hands up in surrender. 

“Listen, I’m not going to bother you much about it now, as I think you both have something to  _ get back to _ , but I will say this!” Freddie choked out, clearly trying not to throw himself into a fit of laughter. “ _ God _ , I sure am glad the two of you finally did something about it.” He finished, snorting to himself and grabbing his bag off of a little table by the door. 

“ _ Bonne nuit _ , my darlings!” He said as he waved goodbye and slid back out the door, closing it behind him. A few stunned moments went by before either Roger or John moved. Roger was the one to break the stillness, jumping up to lock the door. He turned around and leaned against the door, as if trying to keep it shut, and looked at John, eyes wide. John pulled himself up from the ground, and the two of them stared at each other until John started laughing. Roger began laughing too, and the two of them just stood there, practically cackling, until they had calmed down. 

Roger walked back over to the couch again, and the two of them sat down, facing each other but looking away, smiling.

“So, uh… I kind of like you?” Roger said half-sarcastically, and John laughed.

“Really? I had no idea!” the brunette responded playfully, and Roger buried his head in the couch cushion and groaned. 

“How fucked do you think we are with Freddie?” he asked. John hummed in thought.

“There’s no doubt about Brian already having heard about it by now, but I suppose that doesn’t matter, because none of us are ever going to hear the end of it from him anyways.” he responded, smiling. Roger laughed into the cushion and cracked one eye open to watch the other, who leaned back onto the couch again and spread his arms in an inviting manner. 

“Come here, Rog.” He said, and Roger crawled onto him, nestling his head into John’s shoulder and wrapping himself around the younger man. Neither of them said another word, and there they stayed, watching the end of their movie as they slowly drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
